


Defeat

by GiveTheGayBoiRICE_2k19



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sadness, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:16:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveTheGayBoiRICE_2k19/pseuds/GiveTheGayBoiRICE_2k19
Summary: Anxiety has another panic attack





	Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off - this is being written completely off the top of my head, no planning. I'm just very tired and emotional and I need to get it out, so I'm writing random filler with my favorite side - Anxiety.

**You can't do this**

"I know I can't," Anxiety sobbed in response to no one in particular.

**All you'll ever do is let people down**

"I... I know."

The heavy atmosphere pressed down on Anxiety's conscious, and made breathing difficult.

"I thought... I thought that they cared," he began.

**You were wrong. You're always wrong.**

**You can't trust any of them**

**They all hate you**

Anxiety wheezed, and sputtered out a few intermittent sobs, his lungs clenching as he exhaled. He knew it wouldn't be long until he blacked out.

**You should just die**

**You already cut yourself, praying nobody will notice**

**You might as well be dead**

Somehow, tears continued to flow, even though it felt like he should've been too dehydrated to cry at this point.

**You know the others are going to notice your sore throat tomorrow**

**You know they're going to question you**

****You know you messed up** **

Anxiety couldn't stand it anymore. He forced his exhausted body to move, standing up and stumbling in the dark to his bedroom door. As he struggled with the door handle (which he had locked earlier for privacy), he prayed that there would be nobody in the kitchen at this time of night.

**Just end it**

Carefully avoiding making too much noise, Anx rushed to the kitchen, and yanked open every drawer until he found a knife that was sharp enough to cut through skin. He knew that he could never properly die, but hopefully this would at least be enough to save him from having to cry much more than he already was. 

Anxiety heard footsteps start up from far down the hall, and panicked as he fumbled with the knife, attempting to steady his violently shaking hand long enough to make a cut. However, just as he was calm enough to press the tip of the blade against his wrist...

"Anxiety?" 

_Shit, shit, shit_

"Anx, what're you doing up so late? It's nearly three in the morning." Anxiety knew that voice. 

Roman stepped closer to Anxiety, worry slowly setting in as his friend continued to stay silent. Anxiety, on the other hand, was living up to his name.

Unsure of what to do, Anxiety simply stood there, the tip of the kitchen knife he'd picked out pressed to his skin. The closer Roman got to him, the more pressure Anxiety applied to the knife. Quickly, a bead of blood formed, and slid down Anx's wrist, leaving a red trail behind it, and splashing onto the ground below him. 

Roman heard the quiet drip, and quickened his pace, arriving at Anxiety's side in mere seconds. What he saw was enough to summon tears from his eyes: the careful metal blade, piercing Anxiety's flesh, while Anx stood speechless and unmoving, his eyes puffy and his cheeks red and tear-stained.

"Oh, Anx..." Roman began, unsure of what to do. He carefully reached out, and took the knife out of Anxiety's hand, then reached for a paper towel as he set the knife down on the kitchen counter. 

As he gently blotted at Anx's arm with the paper towel, Roman continued: "Anxiety... I know a lot of things are difficult to work through. But I promise you don't have to do it alone."

Anxiety closed his mouth, which had been slightly ajar moments before, and attempted to react, but could only muster a quiet, strangled hum. 

"You don't have to speak if you don't want to. I understand if you would rather not speak for the time being." Roman commented. He finished cleaning Anxiety's arm, and balled up the paper towel, tossing it toward the trash can that happened to be nearby.

Wrapping an arm around Anx's shoulders, Roman tenderly nudged his friend in the right direction, and lead him to his room, where Roman knew he could coerce the poor trait into rest. 

~END~


End file.
